There but for the Grace Of
by Nova42
Summary: Sometimes it's not about trying to fix something that's broken, making up for past mistakes. Sometimes it's about starting again and building something new. Something better. Tag to 12x02, Mamma Mia.


**Spoilers:** 12x02, obviously

 **A/N:** Still working on the next chapter of Providence, but while y'all wait, a tag for 12x02. I _might_ do a second part with Dean. Haven't decided yet. I hope y'all enjoy the tag and remember to review, it's the lifeblood for us writers. ;P

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Sam hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arms around his mother, returning her hug with an uncontrolled and unexpected fierceness. His mind was still reeling, overtaxed with trying to reconcile and come to terms with the fact that this was really happening. That she was really _there._ He'd been so young when she died, the idea of "Mom" had always been just that – an idea. A concept that held no more significance to him than quantum mechanics. Both things had importance and affected people – though some more than others – but were never really anything more than a theory to Sam, a concept to be pondered over late at night while the rest of the world was calm and quiet.

But now, now that idea had come to _life_ , and was standing before him, cradled in his arms. A solid human being. He was afraid that if he let her go, if he so much as _moved_ , she'd disappear, and he'd wake up in that basement to find it was all just another hallucination. A small, childlike part of him thought he'd almost be okay with that, so long as he could hold on to this one moment. Have this feeling of love and safety to fall back on.

Before he was really ready, Sam felt Mary begin to pull away. He swallowed thickly and audibly at the loss, but reluctantly loosened his grip around his mother.

Mary took a small step backwards and lifted her hands to cup the sides of his face, smiling tearfully. "My baby boy." Her smile slipped away, and a wrinkle worked its way across her brow. "I'm sorry," she said softly, unknowingly echoing that night so long ago in their old house.

"Mom?" Sam shifted his weight, watching her carefully. He was pretty sure he knew exactly what she was saying sorry for. After that night in Lawrence, he'd spent more than one night lying awake, contemplating what in the world she'd been apologizing for. It wasn't until years later that he finally learned the truth via his older brother, the deal she made with Azazel to save their dad.

She rolled her lips, pressing them into a thin line, and her eyes dropped guiltily to the floor as she started pulling her hands away.

Sam reached up and wrapped his own hands around hers, holding them near his chest, not letting her go. "Mom?"

Sadness clouded her features as she brought her eyes back up, meeting his concerned gaze. "This is my fault. That yellowed-eyed demon would have never come after you if it wasn't for me."

Sam's mouth curved into a thin smile before he thought to stop it.

Mary's eyebrows arched high as her face flooded with confusion. Sam was pretty sure out of all the responses she'd been preparing for, a smile hadn't been of them. But the sad familiarity of the start of a conversation he'd both given and been on the receiving end of, and more times than he cared to admit, it was almost comical.

He dropped the smile, cleared his throat. "Sorry, M-mom." He stumbled a little over a word that still felt slightly foreign, though less with every chance he got to use it. "I don't blame you. I never have, and I know Dean doesn't either. You were in an impossible situation, losing everyone you had in one night . . ." He swallowed thickly, giving her warm hands a gentle squeeze. "You didn't do anything that Dad, Dean, or I wouldn't have done, or _have_ done." He chuckled sadly. "Guess it runs in the family."

She shook her head, either not ready or not willing to be absolved of her guilt, and he could see now clearly where his brother got that stubborn streak of his from.

"If I hadn't made that deal—"

"Then none of us would be here," Sam cut her off. "Dad would have been dead, Dean and I would never have been born." He paused as a dusty, long forgotten memory suddenly struck him. "Sit for a moment?" he asked, softly and hoping he wasn't overstepping his bounds.

She narrowed her eyes warily, but nodded after a moment's pause, moving over toward the bed to sit down as Sam pulled the desk chair close and settled across from her.

He threw a nervous glance at the open door then lowered his voice slightly. "Don't tell Dean that I told you this, okay? It took me forever to get the details of what happened." He gave her a small conspiratorial smile.

A curious glance slipped across her face as she nodded indulgently. "All right."

Sam bobbed his head, shot one last glance out into the hall. "So uh, a while back, Dean and I were hunting this djinn and Dean . . . he, uh, well, the djinn got to him while we were separated and it, uh, put him under its spell. Do you know what wish it granted? What Dean's deepest desire was?"

Mary didn't give an answer, instead waiting silently for Sam to continue.

"It was you," Sam said softly. "Dean wished that you hadn't died, and uh . . . in Dean's—" He paused, unsure what exactly to call it before finally settling on the simplest term. "—dream. You were alive, the demon, he never came after us. You and Dad had a happy life together before Dad passed away peacefully in his sleep. I was engaged and studying to be a lawyer, and Dean was a mechanic, dating a nurse."

"Sounds perfect," his mom commented, a sad longing coloring her tone.

"Yeah, it does. Or, it did, at first." Sam leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. "But Dean and I, we, uh, we weren't close, barely even talked, apparently. Dean said he got the feeling that I – that we, considered him a disappointment and borderline alcoholic." Sam gave an apologetic smile, trying to soften the blow. "Uh, his words. And then on top of that, all the people Dad saved, that Dean and I had saved . . . they were all dead."

Sam shifted in his seat, glancing up at his mom. "So, yeah, I mean, this life – hunting, it can be hard, and some days it sucks. Dean and I, we've seen and been through a lot, and we've lost a lot of good friends, but we've also done a lot of good. Saved people, made a difference in the world."

"Sam."

"Mom, I know this isn't the life you wanted for us, but Dean and I, this is what we do and I wouldn't want trade the lives we've saved, or the relationship I have with my brother, for any kind of safe, apple pie life. It took me a long time to accept it, but this is my life, and I love it."

Mary studied Sam for a moment, taking in his words before smiling softly. "You know, it's the parent's job to reassure their children."

Sam chuckled softly. "Yeah, well, we don't really do things the traditional way, do we?"

Mary slid forward, brushing some hair away from Sam's face before resting her hand on his cheek once more. "You boys…I'm proud of the men you've become. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to help you."

Sam swallowed thickly, ducking his head a moment, making a weak attempt to swallow back the lump that had lodged itself in his throat. "You're here now."

"And I have a lot of catching up to do."

Sam nodded then cleared his throat, pushing himself up and replacing the chair to its original location tucked under the desk. "I should, uh, let you, you know." He gestured down at the desktop where the journal and now-likely-cold tea sat waiting, but never took his eyes off of his mother.

Mary raised her eyebrows. "Sam."

He blinked. "What? Oh." He ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck as he realized he'd been staring again. "I'll just leave you to . . ." He turned to exit the room but stopped short on the threshold, tapping a finger against the doorframe. "Hey, mom?" He paused, memorizing the moment and relishing every chance he got to say that one simple word.

"Hmm?"

"Have you seen Dean?"

Mary shook her head. "No, not since dinner. Why? Is that unusual?" She shifted in her seat to face Sam more fully, a look of mild concern touching her face.

Sam quickly patted the air with his fingertips. "No, no. He wasn't in his room and I was just wondering. I guess I thought he'd be . . . close by." Sam shrugged. "Probably sneaking more pie," he said with a smile.

"You mean there was some left over?" Mary asked, joking yet incredulous.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, well, Dean does have a thing for pie."

"Good to know some things haven't change."

Sam smiled. "Yeah. And good to know some things have. Goodnight, mom."


End file.
